


The Dean Winchester School of Snogging

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, First Kisses, Kissing, M/M, drunk!Cas, drunk!Dean, drunk!Sam, katie's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam heads out on a date, Dean and Cas are left by themselves with some booze.<br/>Castiel has some questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dean Winchester School of Snogging

“I feel rather intoxixicated, Dean.”

Castiel’s announcement made Dean laugh. Not because it was particularly funny or anything, but because it was painfully true. The fearsome, wrath-filled angel of the Lord was sprawled beside Dean, drunk as a boiled owl, and having severe difficulty pronouncing the word “intoxicated” correctly (since Cas’ declaration, he’d attempted to say the word without any extra syllables at least a dozen times, but had not succeeded as of yet).

Cas had long since lost any of the motor control he’d had before and had apparently developed a steady rhythm in which he knocked at least one object over every three and a half minutes (Dean had been timing him).

Dean too had left the land of sobriety a long time ago—though, unlike Cas, he hadn’t become a complete and utter klutz. Once Sam had headed off on his date, the two had been at a loss for what to do. After around half an hour of awkward silences, Dean had lived up to the Winchester name and had brought out the booze. Castiel had not objected.

“Yeah, you’re acting like it, too,” laughed Dean. He took another swig from his beer and swished the liquid around inside his mouth before swallowing. There was a grunt—presumably, Cas had knocked something over. It had, after all, been three minutes and thirty-five seconds—and suddenly Castiel toppled over so he lay with his head in Dean’s lap.

Cas looked somewhat surprised by this development. “I did not intend for that to happen,” he told Dean with a befuddled blink.

“You know,” Dean said, poking Cas’ cheek, “you’re way more fun to be around when you ain’t acting like you’ve got a tree up your ass.”

“Then I shall stop acting like I have a tree up my rear.” Castiel nodded, then grabbed Dean’s hand and kissed the back of it. In the brief moment that Dean felt Cas’ lips on his skin, he noted that they were a little chapped, but warm.

Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly but didn’t yank his hand away. “Sorry to break it to ya, Romeo, but you got the wrong place—Juliet’s down the road.”

“According to your pixie tales, it’s tradition for the handsome prince to kiss the hands of the fair princesses he encounters,” Cas said with an amused smile.

“They’re called fairy tales, and if you want a princess, you should look in the mirror, hotshot. Have you seen your eyes?”

“I have a beard,” said Castiel matter-of-factly.

“I have stubble!”

“I never said the princesses couldn’t have facial hair.”

“That’s contradicting yourself.”

“That was avoiding the truth.”

“That’s lying!”  
“That’s how you become president,” Cas countered, mimicking Dean’s voice.

Dean shoved him playfully, resulting in a small sound of alarm from Cas as he clung to Dean so he wouldn’t fall off the couch. “I don’t sound like that,” Dean said defensively.

“Yes,” Cas said, sitting up and looking at Dean seriously, “you do.”

They sat there for a bit, staring at each other. It evolved into a sort of contest between the two—well, for Dean, at least. He was adamant that Cas would blink before him, but for what seemed like minutes, the angel just stared back at him with those blue eyes. Eventually, Cas blinked, tilted his head, and overbalanced so comically that Dean would’ve laughed had he not been what the angel fell onto. Dean was knocked over to lie on his back, Castiel sprawled on his chest.

“Jesus!” Dean exclaimed. “You’re like a goddamn… a goddamn tree!” He paused and poked Cas again. “How’re you so heavy? You weigh almost as much as Sammy.”

Cas seemed disinterested by Dean’s comments about his weight; instead, he lifted his hand to gently brush his thumb along Dean’s lower lip. He looked genuinely curious about something.

 _Damn, he’s touchy-feely when he’s drunk,_ Dean thought. However, he didn’t object.

“Dean,” Cas asked, “what does kissing feel like?”

There was a moment of silence between the two.

“Dude, you’ve never even _kissed_ a girl? I mean, I know you’ve never done the horizontal tango but—seriously, what the hell d’you angels do up there?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I told you, I never had occasion! And if you’re going to mock me rather than actually answer my question, then it’s best we drop the subject,” said Cas briskly.

“No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. Just. Cas. Do you even know _how_ to kiss?”

Cas hesitated. “Yes—it’s just pressing your lips together. Which is why I don’t understand what makes it so pleasurable for humans.”

Dean released a laugh. “No, man, it’s more than that. It’s like…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I can’t explain it.”

“Dean, could you teach me how to kiss?”

There was another quiet moment as Dean considered this, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Normally I’d say no because, dude, you’re a dude. But it’s okay since you’re Cas.”

“Should I feel offended by that?”

“Nah,” Dean laughed. He leaned up and closed the already small distance between their lips. For a while, they just kind of sat there—well, Cas did. Dean attempted to add some movement to the kiss but for the first few minutes Cas just looked confused and was as rigid as a bar.

Dean sighed and pulled back a little. “Cas. Are you enjoying this?”

Cas seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head.

“Exactly. Look, you can’t just… sit there. You gotta do something with your hands, first of all.” Without asking, Dean took Castiel’s hands and gently guided them down to his waist. “This is where you’d put them with a girl, see? Pretend I have hips.”

“You do have hips, Dean.”

“No, I mean, like, bigger hips. Feminine hips. Anyway.” Dean lifted his own hands, now, resting one on the small of Cas’ back and the other on the side of his neck, stroking the spot beneath his thumb soothingly. “Relaaaax,” he singsonged softly, nudging Cas’ nose playfully with his own. “It’s no fun for anyone if you’re all stiff and crap.”

“My apologies, Dean.” Cas frowned, then immediately relaxed his stiff muscles. He stretched out on top of Dean, gripping Dean’s waist loosely. “Is that more appropriate?”

Dean grinned. “Yeah. ’Specially what you’re doing with your hands. That’s good.” He slid his hand to the back of Castiel’s neck, carding his fingers through his thick, dark hair as he thought. “What’s next? Right. Legs. If you just… schlump on top of me like a dead weight, my legs are gonna go numb after a while, yeah?”

“That makes sense,” Cas said as he moved a little to the side to allow Dean to prop his leg up. Upon Dean’s instruction, he parted his own legs a little, one on either side of Dean’s left leg, and looked up at Dean for confirmation. Dean nodded.

“There you go,” Dean praised quietly. “You might move during the kiss, but don’t go all stiff again if whoever you’re kissing tries to change position.” He paused, then added, “Just don’t turn into a ragdoll either. Okay. Now for the actual kiss. The guy’s s’posed to lead, usually, but considering the fact that you’d probably just bash her nose you should probably let her lead. No offence.”

“None taken,” replied Cas. He was watching Dean with an odd expression—curious, but content at the same time. Dean suddenly remembered that he was the first person Cas had ever kissed.

“Okay,” Dean murmured, pressing their foreheads together. “You ready, featherbutt?”

“I may be mistaken, Dean, but I doubt comparing your partner to a rear is particularly mood-sett—”

“Shut up and just follow my lead,” said Dean, ducking his head to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips. This time, thank god, it wasn’t as awkward. Of course, it was a little clumsy—teeth knocking, occasional bumping of noses—but Dean didn’t really care. He didn’t want to admit it, but the fact was that with each gentle movement of Cas’ mouth on his, he felt drunker than he had all evening.

This continued for around fifteen minutes; at some points during that time, Dean’s lips found their way onto Cas’ neck and jaw. Dean was just reassuring Cas that the occasional light nip to the lower lip was a good thing when the sound of a slamming door reverberated through the bunker.

“Sam is here!” a voice called. “Okay, so, my date was a bitch. Actually, she was a vamp so I had to cut her head off. Which kind of sucked.”

Sam staggered into the room, apparently not noticing Dean and Cas (who were still kissing on the couch and not paying the younger Winchester much attention).

“…so then after my fifth Jaeger, I remembered you guys probably had some rotgut so I headed back here—”

There was a moment of silence.

“Dean,” Sam said.

Dean pulled away from Cas with an irritable huff. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Are you shirtless?”

“Yep.”

“And are you making out with Cas?”

“Yep.”

“You do know Cas is a guy, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright.” Sam paused. “Why, exactly, are you making out with Cas?”

Dean yawned and stretched, retrieving his shirt from the floor. (Cas had got a bit excited when he’d found out that under-the-shirt action was allowed.) “Cas wanted me to teach him how to kiss.”

“Oh.” Sam nodded, his gigantic form swaying a little. Dean suspected that his younger brother was just as incapacitated as Cas and himself, if not even more so. Then, Sam frowned. “Wait, _you_ can’t teach Cas how to kiss!”

“Why not?” Dean asked, bristling.

“Because, Dean, you always use too much tongue. I’ve seen you kissing girls. It’s like you’re trying to lick their faces off!”

Dean scowled. “Well, I hope you know what that says about your kissing because, between the two of us, little brother, I’m the better kisser. At least _I_ don’t half suck my partner’s face off. And, anyway, Cas asked _me_ to teach him What, you suggesting you swap some spit with him too?”

Castiel blinked, crossing his arms on Dean’s chest and resting his chin on them as he looked between the two.

Sam seemed to consider this before defiantly saying, “Yeah!” and marching over to the pair. In one swift movement, he picked Cas up off Dean, tilted the angel’s face up to his own, and planted a fast-paced, albeit more than a little clumsy, kiss to his lips. He set Cas down after a couple moments. “There.”  Sam nodded, then stumbled over to an armchair and collapsed in it. Within a second, he was snoring.

Cas tilted his head at the Winchester perplexedly then turned back to Dean and carefully crawled onto the couch again. He nuzzled into Dean with a quiet yawn. “All due respect to Sam,” he said, his voice suddenly soft with tiredness, “but I much prefer your style of kissing, Dean. And I don’t think you use too much tongue.” He pressed a light kiss to Dean’s bare chest. “You’re a good teacher, Dean,” he murmured sleepily.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said with a slight smile, but the angel didn’t hear him. Cas was already fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> so basically if you were to follow this timeline--  
> when cas tells meg he learnt how to kiss from the pizza man and dean and sam look so offended, it's because they're both thinking "you lying little bitch we taught you that"


End file.
